I Shall Fight Her Course
I, too wish to come of heroic deed,
By conquering the heart of a rose i saw.
The first war that left my gut much in need-
Of a wordsmith. A thought which indeed sore.
Of many birds that through the summer come,
She's the merit within scope of my choice.
What beauty, earth surely must praise her form.
Sing, o ye butterflies! The joyful noise.
My heart is frail and sickened at her sight,
For she fills my bile with the sweetest gall,
What preserving madness amidst delight.
Of all comely things, she's adorning of all.
To earth is to rose, to me is her love,
That is undying, as a winter tuff.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem